Jules's soft voice broke through Sheridan's thoughts, pulling her back tothe present.

Sheridan focused on the view in the distance. It seemed as if a whole new world had opened up before her eyes, a world of stunning beauty and surrealcharm.

The landscape, a green, lush extravaganza, swept in all directions. In thedistance rose a fairy-tale castle, round towers and turrets peeping throughthe trees, making her think of days long ago when a fair maiden might havestood on the parapets waiting for her knight to return. Medieval splendor andtimeless craftsmanship. She dared not blink for fear it would all disappear.

The coach rumbled along, ascending a gradual steep, and found a passagethrough a rocky gorge between the abrupt termination of a range of hills tothe left and a rocky ledge that rose dark and sudden at the right.

They rolled past a park wall built of loose stone and mantled here andthere with ivy, crossed a shallow ford, and moved down a grass-grown road withmany turns and windings leading up to the castle, which was nestled under theshadow of the woods.

As they approached the house, the road skirted the edge of a precipitousglen clothed with hazel, dwarf oak, and thorn, and the silent house stood withits wide-open hall door facing a moat. A towering forest and great treesframed the castle, courtyard and stable.

Through the air wafted an abundance of fragrances: roses, boxwood, azaleas,wisteria, water lilies, and specimen shrubs.

Jules's glowing face appeared next to Sheridan's as she pointed out thewindow. "There, beyond that profusion of plants, are hidden pathways toexplore. As a child, when I walked down the flagstones and disappeared intothe thicket, I felt as if I'd stepped into another world. There is no placequite like Silver Hills."

Sheridan silently agreed.

The coach rolled to a stop in front of the drawbridge. Sheridan felt rootedto the seat. Her mouth dropped open, her gaze roving over stone and mortarcrafted into singular splendor.

A warm chuckle shook her from her staring. Nicholas held open the coachdoor, his hand outstretched.

"Welcome to my home, Danny Delaney."

His home. A home she would deny their son or daughter when she returned toBoston. A wonderful home full of lore and undoubtedly legend.

Her child's birthright.

Jules's chuckle mingled with Nicholas's as she nudged Sheridan in the backto get her moving. Sheridan stared at Nicholas's proffered hand, afraid totouch him, knowing what one touch could do, how it could break her resolve.

Tentatively, she laid her palm within his. Warm, welcoming fingers wrappedabout hers, encompassing, protecting. Safe. She stepped down, standing toe totoe with him. He smiled, and it touched her like the last ray of an autumn sun.

It was as if Sheridan had been cast under a spell. And the spell wovefurther about her as Nicholas took her arm and tucked it in the crook of his. For that one beautiful moment in time, she felt as if she belonged to thiscastle.

That she was Nicholas's fairy princess.

The ornate, intricately carved double doors opened, and Emery poised on thethreshold in all his stooped glory, awaiting his employer. The man bent at thewaist and beckoned them forward. Like reigning dignitaries, she and Nicholasswept into a circular, high-ceilinged room.

Sheridan absorbed the grandeur in wide-eyed awe. " 'Tis the most wondroussight I've ever seen."

Nicholas squeezed her hand, bringing Sheridan's gaze to him. Pride and lovefor his home reflected on his face.

"I say the same thing every time I see the old dame. When I'm here, nothingelse exists besides this small slice of heaven. Come." Like an excited boy, heled her toward the drawing room. "We call this room Paradise."

Sheridan could well understand the reason. The room's vaulted ceilingthronged with painted birds of all colors and sizes, its walls decorated withAesop's fables, making her feel she had just stepped into the Garden of Eden.A feast for the senses.

While pointing out all the intricate details, Nicholas told her about otherrooms with similar themes: astrological symbols, nature's creatures, thepleasures of the seasons, biblical characters dressed in gilt robes, Moorishdesigns, and heraldic features. Decadent splendor, he called it.

He then showed her a library with row upon row of books, stacked all the way to the ceiling. Carved into the center of one wall was a huge marblefireplace. Beyond the mullioned French doors, two flowing fountains gurgledand rich greenery spread out as far as the eye could see.

Jules had excused herself from the tour, claiming she wanted to unpack. ButSheridan could see the ride had taken much out of her friend. A sensation like bottled lightning had churned in Sheridan's stomach when Jules clasped herhand briefly, a vision of her friend's face twisted in the throes ofchildbirth. Her time was close at hand.

As Sheridan watched Jules depart, she knew the strongest urge to confideJules's secret to Nicholas, to forewarn him of what was to come. He needed tobe prepared, just in case.

Yet she refrained, keeping the truth locked inside for yet another day.Jules had begged her not to worry her cousin with something that might verywell not happen.

Yet Sheridan read the concern in Jules's eyes, belying her words.Nevertheless, Sheridan didn't want to compound Jules's fear by telling herfriend of the things she had seen only within her mind's eye.

Besides, Sheridan intended to be there for Jules when her time came, andJules had assured her the doctor lived close by. Sheridan could handleanything that arose until the doctor arrived. She had delivered a few babies.

One stillborn.

She shook the disturbing thought from her mind. Jules and her baby would bejust fine. Sheridan would see to it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sheridan spotted an item on a half-moon tableby the far wall that she hadn't expected to find in Nicholas's house.

"A Celtic cross."

Nicholas followed Sheridan's gaze, enjoying the pleasure on her expressiveface. Enjoying her. The urge to stomp about and rail at the fates that hadsaddled him with two women had left him.

" Tis lovely," she murmured, studying the cross.

Nicholas's father had brought the cross back with him from Ireland when hehad gone to check on their property right before he died.

Property now in Nicholas's possession.

In an ironic twist of fate, Damien had deeded to Nicholas a house and landsin Ireland--a holding Nicholas had forgotten all about.

Damien was, in his own way, being amusing. He had thought it apropos torelinquish that particular estate, having heard about Nicholas's uniquehouseguests of the Irish persuasion. Hence, Gray got the property in Wales,and Nicholas received Mulholland Manor, making him the last thing he wanted tobe.

A landlord.

Since the day he'd signed the papers, Sheridan's words had haunted him.

If ye were a hated landlord, then I'd have issue with ye.

Nicholas stood next to Sheridan, trying to ignore her loveliness and theway he felt when she was near. How would he ever tell her about his latestacquisition? He could almost picture her expression, the shock paling herface, dulling her eyes. Anger would follow.

Then the look of betrayal, accusation changing whatever she felt for himinto hate. Regardless of what he told her, he would still be the one thing shedespised the most.

Sheridan traced her fingers over the cherub faces decorating the fourcomers of the cross. "Where did ye get this?"

Nicholas realized her question gave him the opening he needed to tell herabout Mulholland Manor, to explain how the estate had come to be in hispossession.

But why did he have to explain? He could own property wherever he damn wellpleased. It wasn't as if he had planned to deceive her.

It occurred to him that perhaps this turn of events was exactly what heneeded to sever whatever was building between he and Sheridan, to break thebond he'd never felt with any other woman.

So why, then, did he want to tell Sheridan gently about his new property,to make sure she understood? Perhaps it was best not to look too closely athis reasoning.

"The cross has been here a long time," he returned evasively.

A twinge of pain touched him as he studied her profile, serene and lovely.His arm lifted, the desire to stroke back the wisps of hair caressing hercheek nearly overwhelming. Instead, he balled his hand into a fist and droppedit to his side.

He had to get out before he did something foolish, as he had done more thanonce with Sheridan. A ride on Narcissus was the remedy he sought--to gallopfar afield, over hills and along ledges at breakneck speed, hoping tooutdistance the hounds of desire.

He felt Sheridan's eyes upon him. Too late for retreat. His gaze slidupward from the perfection of her cheek and locked with violet gems. Thesadness reflected in their depths rocked him. Had he caused her pain? Lordknows he had done things, said things, he wished he could take back.

Her vulnerability chipped away at his resolve, making him question thedecisions he had made that dictated his life, his future.

Why couldn't he try to make things work with her? Maybe if he held tightand gave her all he could offer, she'd love him, stay with him. Not betray hisheart.

Something undeniable lay between them. If only he could let go of the painand open his heart to possibilities, forget the vindictiveness of his motherand the slow destruction of his father.

Sheridan wasn't his mother and he wasn't his father. Nicholas wouldn't let the same thing happen to him and Danny that had happened to his parents. He'dkeep control of the situation.

Control. Of Sheridan Delaney, the uncontrollable. The fruit-destroying,shoe-flinging, fiery-tempered, Nicholas-abusing Sheridan Delaney.

Try.

A voice, loud, coarse and woefully familiar, echoed down the long corridor,breaking the moment.

Uncle Finny and Aunt Aggie had arrived, the death and destruction twins.

Nicholas heaved a sigh, wondering why people who knew the least knew it theloudest.

He backed away from Sheridan, thinking about what he had almost done, whathe had wanted to do. He had to clear his head, be alone, and he knew exactlywhere to go. He pivoted on his heel and strode from the room.

*Chapter Eighteen*

"Sweet Jesus, what's happened?" Nicholas demanded when he saw his prizestud, Narcissus, drop to his rump and try lying down on his side. Only thetight hold the stable master had on Narcissus's reins kept him upright.Nicholas ran over to help, maneuvering the horse back on to its feet.

"Thank goodness you have arrived, sir," his stable master, Jeremiah, said.Lines creased the young man's forehead, worry marked his eyes. "Narcissus wasfine until a short while ago. I exercised him in the paddock and returned himto his stall. I left for only a short while to exercise Grayfriar. When Ireturned, I saw Narcissus nipping at his flanks."

That one symptom was all Nicholas had to hear. It foretold an ailment thatmade horse owners shudder because of its unpredictable nature.

Colic.

The disease lacked a singular explanation and could afflict a horse at anytime with little or no warning.

Narcissus had to be kept on his feet and moving. If he laid down he wouldroll, and if he rolled, that could cause twisting or tangling of theintestines, which could result in a kink or knot that blocked the passage ofblood or food. The result could be fatal.

"Has there been any change in his diet or usual activities?" Nicholas asked, his hands running over Narcissus's belly, finding it hard anddistended.

"No, sir. He was prancing around all morning, as if he knew you were onyour way."

"What about his stabling conditions?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "Everything is exactly the way it has always been,sir."

Nicholas stared down into the large, frightened eyes of his horse, strokingthe Arabian's neck. "Have you sent for Timmons?"

"Yes, sir, but . .."

"But what?"

"Well, he's on another emergency and doesn't know when he can get here."

Nicholas gritted his teeth. He shouldn't be surprised the man was otherwiseoccupied, being the only veterinarian in a fifty-mile radius.

Nevertheless, Timmons's absence would not cause a great hardship. Nicholasknew as much or more about horses than most people, having bred and raisedthem for a good portion of his life. Narcissus had colic one time before andNicholas had pulled him through just fine. He could do so again.

He shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt."Well, I guess it is just the two of us, then." When Jeremiah remained silent,Nicholas's gaze snapped to him. He didn't like what he saw reflected in hisstable master's eyes. "What is it?"

"Narcissus isn't the only one afflicted." Jeremiah nodded toward anotherstall. "Eclipse is as well."

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair. Two of his best horses down. Damnit! Narcissus and Eclipse were the central part of his breeding business.Horse lovers flocked from all destinations to buy a fleet-footed foal sired byone of these two horses.

If Nicholas lost them, not only would he be losing two splendid animalsthat had become an integral part of his life, that knew him as well as he knewthem, but he would also lose an essential part of his business.

The look in Jeremiah's eyes told Nicholas more bad news loomed on thehorizon.

"What else?"

"It's Wind Dancer."

Nicholas's body tensed. Wind Dancer was his pregnant mare, carryingNarcissus's next foal. "What about her?"

"She's gone into labor."

"Are you finished, miss?"

Sheridan jumped at the sound of the footman's voice. He stood poised besideher chair, neatly attired in emerald and gold livery, his buttons gleaming,one white-gloved hand held out.

It took a moment for Sheridan to realize what he wanted. Her gaze droppedto the gold-rimmed plate of cold, congealing food placed smartly in front ofher, the utensils unmoved, her wine glass still full. She'd been staring intothe liquid's crimson depths, seeing things swirling within the wine thatdisturbed her.

"Aye, I'm finished."

With crisp efficiency, the footman whisked the plate from the table andvanished behind a cleverly hidden door that Sheridan imagined led to thekitchen.

She dined alone, uneasiness weighing heavily upon her. Yet her tension didnot stem from the fact that she sat in solitary grandeur at a table spaciousenough for twenty-five people; Jules having not even made an appearance, asshe had retired early. No, something else gnawed at Sheridan.

Whether her disquiet came from some impending sense of doom, her everpresent nausea, or worry over her friend, she did not know. Yet her uneaseremained unabated.